Saving a Friend
by hestiaA1
Summary: AU-Sequel to "Finding a Family", "Losing a Book", "Adding One More", and "Sharing a Family". Read those first. This one deals with the Trio's discovery of the Basilisk and the Chamber - and Snape's response to that. Contains corporal punishment.
1. Chapter 1

_Saving a Friend_

"Excuse me, Professor."

Minerva McGonagall looked up in surprise from where she had been perusing the library shelves. "Yes, Miss Lovegood?" she asked.

"May I speak with you for a moment?" the normally dreamy girl was, for once, reasonably focused. She was even sufficiently aware of her surroundings to dart a nervous glance over her shoulder for Madame Pince.

McGonagall flicked her wand. "We are now surrounded by a silencing spell, Miss Lovegood. No one can hear us, including the librarian. How can I help you?" She assumed it was a question about Transfigurations.

"I was just wondering if there were a reason for Ginny's behavior," Luna replied.

McGonagall blinked. "Her behavior?"

"Yes. You see, I know that Gryffindors are often involved in all sorts of heroic activities, and I wondered if that was why Ginny was acting so oddly. As part of an adventure, I mean. I thought if she were, then it might be rude of me to ask her about it. Especially if it were supposed to be a _secret _adventure," Luna explained, her rather off-center mind once again making itself felt. "But of course, she's only a first year, and so I thought that even Gryffindors were probably not allowed to have secret adventures in their first year, at least not without permission, so I thought I would ask you."

Minerva tried hard not to blink again. It would not do for a Head of House and Deputy Headmistress to react like a befuddled Hufflepuff. "Do I understand that you believe Miss Weasley to be acting in an unusual fashion?"

"Why, yes, Professor. I thought I had explained that. She's behaving very oddly, it seems to me."

Biting back the obvious retort, McGonagall asked, "What exactly has she been doing?"

"Well, she's become very unhappy and withdrawn, and she writes in a diary all the time, and she has taken to lurking in lavatories. So far, it's only the girls' toilets, but I was worried that the adventure might take her into the boys', and that could be troublesome."

"Yes," the professor managed to reply. "Yes, I would agree." She cleared her throat. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Miss Lovegood. I will look into it."

Luna smiled and drifted away. "Thank you, Professor. I just wanted to be sure Ginny doesn't get hurt on her adventure. Adventures can become tragedies so quickly, can't they?"

McGonagall wasted no time in returning to her office and calling Professor Snape. "Severus," she asked, as soon as the dark man had emerged from the fireplace, "has Harry or one of the other children said anything about Ginny Weasley acting strangely?"

"More strangely than a normal Weasley?" Snape asked drily. At his friend's glare, he relented. "No. Why?"

"Miss Lovegood just came and told me that she has noticed Ginny's behavior has changed since the start of the school year. I was wondering if she had confided to Miss Granger or her brother."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Miss _Lovegood_ noticed odd behavior? And the rest of you didn't?"

"Well, I suppose it could just be normal homesickness in a first year," Minerva said doubtfully.

"I imagine even Miss Lovegood would not make a mistake like that," Snape commented. "Have you noticed any changes in the Weasley girl's scholastic performance?"

"She does seem more distracted," McGonagall admitted, "but she hasn't received any detentions or warnings. She doesn't have the normal Weasley exuberance, but I assumed that, as a girl, she might be different in personality."

Snape frowned. "I haven't heard her brother ever mention such a thing, though he doesn't speak of his sister all that much."

"I'll call her in and talk to her," McGonagall decided. "But do keep an eye on her in class and let me know if the other children say anything."

Snape nodded. "Of course."

Unfortunately, McGonagall's conversation with Ginny was fruitless. The girl insisted everything was fine, and short of accusing her of hiding in lavatories, there was nothing her Head of House could say to dispute her statement. McGonagall decided merely to alert the other professors and maintain a watchful silence for the moment.

#

Silence was one thing Harry was finding in short supply. At first, he assumed the whispery voice was a joke from one of the boys in his dorm or possibly Draco, trying to move from pureblood-related insults to more schoolboyish pranks. But after several confrontations when it became clear that his friends knew nothing – or were better actors than anyone had guessed, Harry began to get worried.

The only good news was that his scar didn't throb when he heard the voice, so he guessed it probably wasn't Voldemort. Of course, the more he learned about the Wizarding World, the more evil, twisted, Dark, and dangerous creatures he learned about, so being able to cross Voldemort off the list didn't make Harry feel all that much better. The fact that the voice always seemed to be going on about blood and killing didn't reassure him either. He kept remembering some of the Muggle horror movies he had seen – or rather that Dudley, delighted at how much they scared him, had made him watch. He remembered a few, especially one that featured the word "REDRUM", and he began to worry that the voice might actually be coming from _inside_ his own head. After all, no one else seemed to hear it, so what else could it be? If the voice wasn't Voldemort's, and the absence of pain in the scar seemed to indicate that, then the only one left in his head was Harry himself. Was he going insane?

Muggle TV always showed crazy people muttering to themselves and shouting at people who weren't really there. Maybe this is how they started? The few books he was able to find in the library – since he wasn't about to ask Hermione for help! – seemed to agree that hearing voices was a sign of madness. They also talked about how severe emotional shocks and abusive backgrounds and chronic exposure to stress and violence could cause people to have mental breakdowns. Harry got more worried.

As much as he hated to admit it, Snape had convinced him that the Dursleys' treatment of him was pretty abusive, and since he'd left them for Hogwarts and Wizarding society, he'd pretty much been under nothing but stress, between having to live up to the title of The Boy Who Lived and knowing that Voldemort and his Death Eaters wanted him dead. And of course, the whole business with the Philosopher's Stone last year had been a pretty big emotional shock. Harry still got queasy when he thought about how Voldemort had looked, peering out of the back of Quirrell's skull, and the smell of the man disintegrating from Harry's touch. So, it seemed he had lots of reasons to go insane. Was this voice the first indication?

Harry wished he knew what to do. He didn't want to tell Ron and Hermione – crazy people didn't have friends; he knew that from the telly. Well, except for other crazy people who shouted at nothing and lived with them on the streets or in the loony bin. And friends were too new a concept for Harry to be willing to risk the two best friends he had. There was always Madame Pomfrey, but she'd probably ship him off straight to St Mungo's. Professor McGonagall was nice, but Harry was sure she'd just bring in Pomfrey, and Dumbledore was too much of a risk. Harry liked the Headmaster, but he hadn't forgotten he was the one who had left him with the Dursleys all those years and couldn't even be bothered to check on him. If he learned Harry was crazy, he'd probably send him back there or to some horrible mental institution that made the Dursleys' home look like Paradise.

What about Snape? Harry chewed his lip anxiously. He trusted Snape more than pretty much any other grown up – as much as Ron and Hermione in fact, and maybe a little more, since he had an adult's knowledge and experience to back up his advice. But Harry was only just learning what it was like to have an adult care about him, and he was terrified of disappointing Snape or having Snape disengage from him when he realized Harry was a loony.

In the end, the answer came from a most surprising place. "Whatcha reading that for, Harry?" the soft, almost tentative voice behind him startled Harry from where he'd been searching among the library stacks.

He spun around, concealing the book under his robe. "Neville! What are you doing sneaking up behind me?" he demanded, embarrassment making him irritable.

Neville looked startled. "Sorry, Harry. I was just wondering why you were looking at that book."

Harry shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "Just trying to figure out how crazy old Voldemort is," he said, shoving "A Catalogue of Mental Diseases" back on the shelf.

"Oh," Neville looked pensive. "I dunno if I think he's crazy or just evil."

"Can't he be both?" Harry asked, a bit flippantly.

Neville glared at him, something so unusual that Harry blinked in astonishment. "There's nothing funny about being crazy, Harry!"

"I didn't mean to make you mad, Neville," Harry apologized, too taken aback by his friend's sudden fury to do anything else.

"Yeah, well, it's just…" Neville's anger dissipated as quickly as it had flared. He took a deep breath. "My parents are at St Mungo's Mental Ward. They were tortured by Death Eaters until they both went mad." Harry's eyes were wide with horror. "Not many of the other kids here know, but I guess outside Hogwarts, well, it was a big deal when it happened. Not as big a deal as your parents' dying and all, but… Anyway, I guess I just think of crazy as something you can't help, and evil as something that you choose. But I didn't mean to snap at you, Harry. I'm sorry."

"No, Neville. I'm sorry. I – I didn't know. I didn't mean to say anything that would, um, you know, make you feel bad or insult your parents or anything," Harry stammered.

Neville gave him a quick smile and hurried off before Madame Pince could yell at them for talking in the library.

That night, Harry was so distracted over his homework that Snape finally gave up in disgust. "What is it?" he demanded, annoyed. "Your mind has been elsewhere this entire night!"

"How do you know someone is crazy?" Harry blurted out.

Snape's eyebrows rose. "I beg your pardon?"

"Neville told me about his parents. You know what happened to them, right?" Snape nodded slowly. "Well, he said that Death Eaters tortured them until they went mad. But how do you know they're mad? I mean, what if they're just, I dunno, hurt or scared or something?"

Snape thought quickly. Sometimes Harry had too much compassion than was good for him. He could imagine the boy lying awake nights worrying that Frank and Alice Longbottom were locked away in some horrible mental ward, crying out for help and being mistaken for insane. He understood why Harry, with his weird link to Voldemort, might well worry about errors being made in the diagnosis of mental diseases. What if someone had decided that Harry's tales of visions from the Dark Lord or blinding headaches whenever Quirrell was around were nothing but the ramblings of an unbalanced mind? No wonder Harry was anxious.

"Unfortunately, there is no doubt as to the Longbottoms' condition," he said gently but firmly. "From what I understand, they are in a state of catatonia, which means they do not respond to anything in this world, not even their son. I am sure you understand how sensitive this topic is for Neville and will not do anything to cause him pain or embarrassment?" He waited until Harry had nodded, a flash of indignation in his eyes, before continuing. Not that he hadn't expected Harry to be properly sympathetic, but he couldn't take a chance on something as important as this. The Longbottom boy had enough stress as it was. "Other mental conditions are equally plain to diagnose. When someone is truly mentally ill, they will hear voices or see things or display behaviors or thoughts that are clearly not based in reality."

"For a long time, I thought that if you believed in magic, you were crazy. The Muggle world still thinks so," Harry said quietly.

Snape frowned. "True, but now you know better. And if a Muggle claims to be doing magic, it can be proven true or false. If true, they're not a Muggle. If false, then they are not thinking clearly and need assistance."

Harry swallowed. "What kind of assistance do crazy people get at St Mungo's?"

The boy had clearly inherited Lily's mile-wide compassionate streak. "The Longbottoms are well looked after," he stated firmly. "They are well fed and kept clean and safe. No one harms them, Harry."

"So they're like… locked up? For their own safety?"

"Exactly," Snape reassured him.

"So… someone – some Wizard – who heard voices or saw things or whatever, he'd get locked up too?"

Snape nodded. "And kept safe."

Harry forced a smile. No, he definitely would not be telling an adult about the voice anytime soon. He didn't want to be locked up and kept _safe_. He'd had enough of that at the Dursleys, when Dumbledore apparently decided that being locked in a cupboard and slapped around by Muggles was _safe_.

From now on, Harry wasn't going to rely on anyone else's definition of _safe. _The Headmaster might think that the mere existence of blood wards guaranteed safety, and maybe to him they had worked – Harry was still alive, after all – but Harry had higher standards than that. He'd just have to hide his craziness from everyone, but really, would that be so hard? After all, he had hidden his magic in the Muggle world for most of his life. Maybe it was even a good thing for him to be crazy. Surely anyone who was told at the age of 11 that he was the target of a Dark Lord who'd already survived death once, _needed_ to be a little crazy just to get through the day. And if Harry was supposed to play a role in defeating Voldemort the second time around, well, again a little craziness might help.

_TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

Keeping quiet was a good plan, but Harry had reckoned without his friends' powers of observation. The third time the voice startled him in class, making him drop his quill and then remain jumpy for the rest of the lesson, Ron and Hermione had had enough. That evening, they dragged Harry into an unused classroom and confronted him.

"What's up, mate?" Ron asked, folding his arms across his chest and eyeing Harry sternly.

"I don't know what you mean," Harry mumbled, having a hard time meeting their eyes.

"We know something's going on, Harry," Hermione chimed in. "You keep acting like you're being attacked or surprised. You're not grabbing your scar, but it comes on suddenly, like when you would get the pains last year. Tell us what's wrong."

"It's nothing." He shook his head and tried to leave, but they stopped him.

"Oh, no," Ron said with surprising determination. "Not this time, Harry. _This_ time you're going to tell us exactly what's going on and not make us try to figure it out on our own."

Harry looked at him in surprise. In the past, Hermione had been the pushy one, and Ron had been much more willing to let Harry get away with his secrets. Obviously that had changed.

"Please, Harry, don't you trust us? We just want to help," Hermione pleaded.

Harry felt ashamed of himself. He wasn't being fair. Didn't they have the right to decide if they wanted to be friends with a crazy person? What if he went nuts and started attacking people? He might actually _hurt_ them! "I – I didn't want to tell you," he started, shamefaced, "because I don't want you to stop being my friends."

Ron snorted. "Like _that's_ gonna happen. Mate, are you touched in the head, or what?"

Harry looked at him. "Yeah. I am."

There was a moment of silence as the other two stared at him. Then: "WHAT?"

Harry sighed. "I'm crazy. I'm hearing things that aren't there. I don't want to be sent to St Mungo's so I wasn't going to tell anyone."

Hermione frowned. "Harry, what on earth makes you think you're crazy? How do you know the things aren't there? Maybe it's You Know Who."

"My scar doesn't hurt, 'Mione. I think anything associated with Voldemort makes my scar hurt – it's the link between us, see? And when I hear the voice, the scar doesn't even tingle."

"What's the voice like, Harry? I mean, is it telling you to do stuff?" Ron asked, a bit nervously.

"You mean like 'Smother Ron in his sleep'?" Harry asked sarcastically. "No. And before you ask, Hermione, it's not giving me homework answers either."

Ron grinned. "No tips on tomorrow's Quidditch matches?"

"Or hints about possible surprise quizzes?" Hermione got into the spirit of things too.

Harry had to grin. "Nope, nor suggestions on how to avoid Filch or how to prank Draco and get away with it."

"What a useless voice, then," Ron shrugged, eyes teasing. "I can see why you'd want to ignore it. What's the point of having it sound off and distract you if it's not going to tell you anything useful?"

Harry laughed for what felt like the first time in months. He was so lucky to have friends like these!

"Seriously, though, Harry," Hermione could only be silly for brief periods, "what _does_ the voice say?"

Harry lost his grin. "Mostly stuff about blood and bones and killing and stuff like that."

His friends looked worried. "I dunno, mate. That sure _sounds_ like You Know Who."

"Can you recognize the voice, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Maybe you're hearing someone else's thoughts?"

"Can Wizards do that?" Harry asked, surprised. Both turned to Ron.

He looked taken aback. "Well, _I've_ never heard of it, but I guess maybe. Why? Does it sound like someone you know?"

Harry screwed up his face in an effort to remember. "I don't think so. The voice is kinda whispery and harsh. It doesn't really sound human."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. "Can you imitate it?"

Harry concentrated, closing his eyes. "_Blood… I want blood. Kill! Kill now!_" he repeated. He opened his eyes and saw the other two staring at him. "What?"

"Harry, what _was_ that?" Ron found his voice first.

"What? Did you recognize it?"

"Harry, that wasn't even English," Hermione told him.

"But it sounded like English," he said, puzzled. "Didn't I just speak English?"

Ron shook his head. "No. It was all hisses and slithery noises. It gave me the creeps."

"I don't get it. I don't know anything but English," Harry protested. "Not even French!"

"It didn't sound like any language I've ever heard," Hermione said. "Not like Chinese or Japanese even."

"But –" Harry stopped suddenly, an idea striking him. "Come on!" He led the way, hurrying out onto the school grounds and going right to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"Harry, what are we doing here?" Hermione asked, eyeing the forest nervously.

"Yeah, mate, didn't Snape already wallop you once this year for going in there?" Ron asked pointedly. "Are you looking for a repeat performance?"

"We're not going _into_ the forest, guys," Harry promised. "Hang on a second." He started wandering around the edge of the woods, looking at the ground. Ron and Hermione exchanged baffled looks.

After several minutes, Harry exclaimed in delight and reached down to the ground. He lifted something, spent a moment muttering to it or himself, then rejoined his friends. "Listen – does this sound like what I said before?" And turning to the small snake looped round his wrist, he said, "_Thank you for offering to help me._"

"_My pleasure, little speaker. I did not realize there was one of you in the pile of stone. Have you lived here long?"_

"_Not too long. I go to school here. We call the pile of stone Hogwarts."_

"_What an odd name! You two-feet are strange creatures. But you must beware, little speaker. The Creature under the stones has Awakened. It has no fondness for your kind._"

"Harry! That's it!" Hermione's shriek distracted Harry from the snake's final words, and it scared the snake too. With a hiss, it slithered from Harry's arm and disappeared into the underbrush. "That's exactly like what you sounded like before! And you know we can't hear the snake talking back to you – it is, right? We just hear a little hiss or two from it. Maybe that's why no one but you is hearing this voice."

Harry looked past Hermione's excited expression to Ron's pale face. "What is it?"

Ron gulped. "You- you're a Parselmouth?"

"A what?" Both Harry and Hermione gazed at him blankly.

"You can speak to serpents?"

Harry shrugged. "Yeah. It just sounds like English to me. Why? Can't everyone?"

"I can't," Hermione volunteered.

Ron shook his head. "You two don't get it. Being able to speak Parseltongue is really, really rare."

"See, Harry?" Hermione offered. "_That's_ why you're the only one hearing the voice. It's not that you're crazy. It's just that maybe there's no one else at Hogwarts who speaks Parseltongue and so no one else is hearing the snake."

"No!" Ron exclaimed, frustrated at their continued calmness. "You still don't get it! I mean it's _really_ rare. I know there's no one else at Hogwarts who's a Parselmouth. I don't even think there's anyone else living who is."

Harry shrugged. "Okay, so it makes me a little weird. I guess I'm used to that."

Ron rolled his eyes. "No, it's more than that. Look, _Salazar Slytherin_ was a Parselmouth. So was – is – whatever – You Know Who. A lot of people figure it's a Dark Wizard thing."

Hermione leapt to Harry's defense. "Well, that's just stupid! And wrong – Harry's proof of that! Why would it be evil to speak to snakes? They're valuable members of the environment, you know!"

"Hermione, don't get all eco-warrior on us, okay? I'm just telling you that Harry's being a Parselmouth is going to make a lot of people uncomfortable," Ron argued.

"Including you?" Harry asked quietly.

Ron flushed. "No. I was just – y'know – surprised, is all. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it. Hey, maybe it's a good thing. I mean, at least there's one power that You Know Who has that you have too."

Harry cheered up a little at that thought. "Yeah. That's true."

"Exactly," Hermione agreed, giving Ron an approving smile. "Just think: if You Know Who tells a snake to bite you, you can tell it to bite _him_! Won't he be surprised then?"

Harry and Ron laughed. "That would be great. Maybe we can find a snake to sneak into his bed and chomp on him while he sleeps. That would be easy and quick!" Ron offered.

"Well, before we sic a snake onto You Know Who, we still have to figure out what's making Harry's voice. If you're hearing it in Parseltongue, Harry, is it a snake you're hearing?"

Harry frowned. "I can't really explain it, but it doesn't _sound_ like a snake. I mean, the voice in my head doesn't sound like the snake I was just talking to. And usually, I can only talk to or hear a snake that's in front of me, like when I talk to you guys. There's nothing around when I hear the other voice."

"What we need to do is some research," Hermione announced happily, ignoring the boys' groans. "Maybe there's some other creature, related to snakes, that Harry might be hearing."

"If there is, then I know who to ask!" Ron said, grinning.

"Hagrid?" Harry suggested.

"No offense, Harry, I think Hagrid's great an' all, but I don't know that after last year, I'd really want to trust him with a secret. No, I was thinking of Charlie. I mean, yeah, he studies dragons now, but he knows all about magical creatures. We can owl him and I bet he'd have some suggestions."

"Ron, that's brilliant!" Hermione said in surprise.

"Anything that gets _me_ out of having to do the research," he grinned back.

"Okay, Ron will owl Charlie – just pretend it's a question for a homework assignment, all right? And while we're waiting for his reply, we can see what we can find in the library. We can start with the Magical Creatures textbooks, and work our way into more esoteric texts. Maybe a biography of Salazar Slytherin might help," Hermione mused, planning busily. The two boys sighed in resignation and followed her back to the castle.

#

Although their research kept them busy, the Trio still spent regular evenings with Professor Snape. On one such night, Hermione arrived a little earlier than the boys.

"Miss Granger," Snape greeted her austerely, eyebrows raised. Usually the students arrived together, unless it was one of his nights with only Harry.

"Excuse me, Professor, but I was wondering if I might bring someone else down tonight. Professor McGonagall asked me to help Ginny Weasley with her Transfigurations homework – she's having a few problems – but I didn't want to miss our time here either." She bit her lip nervously. Professor Snape wasn't exactly fond of the Weasleys en masse, but he seemed to tolerate Ron well enough these days… She crossed her fingers behind her back for luck and watched Snape hopefully.

Snape thought for a moment. He detected Minerva's fine hand in this. Knowing that this was one of Granger's usual visiting nights, she had nevertheless asked her to help the Weasley girl. That probably meant she wanted Severus to take a look at her too. "Very well, Miss Granger. I trust you will inform Miss Weasley of proper decorum in my chambers? I will hold you responsible for her behavior."

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" Hermione scurried away, presumably to return with yet another redhead.

"Hey, Uncle Sev, where are the Gryffindorks?" Draco said, sauntering into his godfather's quarters a few minutes later.

Snape frowned at him. "Good evening to you too, Draco. I'm fine, thank you. And yourself?"

Draco squirmed. Lucius would have had him bent over the couch and howling in a heartbeat for such atrocious manners, but he'd worried that the others were already there and didn't want to sound like a pureblood prat in front of them. "Sorry, Uncle Severus. Good evening. I'm fine, thank you for asking."

"I expect the others shortly, Draco. Sit down and make yourself comfortable."

Draco let out his breath in a sigh of relief. His godfather wasn't that annoyed. "What are you working on?" he asked quizzically, wandering over to the desk.

"Fifth year essays. I will soon need to fetch some Headache Relieving potions."

"Dunderheads?" Draco asked with a knowing grin.

"Indeed. By the way, before the others arrive, I should tell you that I spoke with the Headmaster, and he approved the idea for a Hogwarts prize for scholastic and athletic excellence. It will be awarded to one student in each year at the annual prizegiving ceremony."

Draco let out a yelp of delight and hugged his godfather. It had worked! Surely his winning that prize would make up for Granger beating him in test scores.

Snape gave him a brief squeeze. "You will still have to earn it," he reminded him sternly. "That means both keeping up your grades and showing good sportsmanship on the Quidditch pitch."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "Oh, Merlin."

"I mean it. The athletic portion will be determined by Madame Hooch, so you'd better plan on impressing her with your sportsmanship as well as your flying, or you will have a difficult time winning the prize. "

Draco scowled. Hooch was always nattering on about not rubbing your opponents' noses in their defeat, and where was the fun in that? Still, he didn't think he'd have that much trouble charming the old witch. "Yes, Uncle Sev," he said dutifully. "Thank you for getting the Headmaster to create the prize," he added, remembering his manners.

"You're welcome. I suggest we both start talking it up to your father, so that he is well aware of what a prestigious honor it will be for you to bring home."

Draco nodded vigorously. "I'll owl him about it tonight."

Snape nodded to the table and the parchment and quill upon it. "No time like the present."

The others arrived soon thereafter and settled into their usual routine. Harry reviewed his assignments with Snape while Draco and Ron played chess. The only difference was that Hermione was busy helping Ginny with transfiguring a grape into a marble and back again. After an hour and a chipped tooth, Ginny had it down pat.

"Great, Ginny!" Hermione praised. "See? It's not that hard. It just takes a little concentration. Why don't you take a break for a few minutes and then we'll try it again, just to make sure."

"Okay," Ginny agreed, reaching into her bookbag for another assignment. Hermione wandered over to where Harry and Ron were now comparing notes from Charms, Draco having won the chess match.

"Hey, Granger, do you want to look over History of Magic together for the quiz?" Draco called.

"Sure. Let me just finish this," Hermione answered, busy sorting out a discrepancy between the boys' respective notes.

Draco tilted back his chair – another habit his father would treat severely – and looked absently around the room while he waited. His eye fell on where Ginny was quietly scribbling in a leatherbound journal. Curious, he leaned closer and nearly toppled over. "Weasley!" he yelped. "Where did you get that?"

Both Ron and Ginny looked up sharply, but Draco only had eyes for the girl.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she snapped, clutching the book to her chest.

Draco jumped out of his chair and advanced on her. "That book! Where did you get it? It doesn't belong to you!"

"Yes, it does!" Now Ginny was on her feet, too, and backing away. "Leave me alone!"

"What's going on?" Ron hurried over in full-out Protective Big Brother mode. "Is he bothering you, Gin?"

"Leave me alone, all of you!" Ginny shouted, snatching up her bag. "It's none of your business!"

"That's not yours!" Draco made a sudden lunge for the book. Ginny screamed and jumped back, and Ron grabbed Draco by the back of the robes.

"Don't you touch my sister!" he yelled.

"Leggo, you idiot!" Draco struggled against Ron's grip. "She doesn't know what that is!"

Snape pushed past Harry and Hermione, both open-mouthed spectators, and grabbed each of the boys with one hand. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"He's bothering Ginny!" Ron accused, stabbing a finger at Draco.

"Uncle Sev, _look_ at what she's got!" Draco pointed at Ginny. "The journal!"

Seeing that hostilities were quelled, Snape released the boys and turned to the redheaded girl. "Miss Weasley," he began, extending a hand for the book in question.

Before he got any further, Ginny turned and fled his quarters, the precious book clutched tightly to her chest.

Everyone stared after her. However much she might not trust Malfoy with her possessions, Ginny had no conceivable reason to refuse to show her things to a professor. Even if the book was contraband, her reaction was out of all proportion.

"Mr Weasley," Snape said, his cool voice revealing nothing, "what do you know of that book?"

Ron gave him a baffled look. "Nothing, Professor. I'm sorry. I never saw her with it before this term."

"Has your sister kept a diary in the past?"

"No, I don't think so."

Snape glanced at Draco, who was giving him a meaningful look.

"What?" Ron burst out. "What is it?"

Snape gave a small nod, and Draco turned to the redheaded boy. "I'm pretty sure I know that book. If I'm right, it's a Dark artifact that used to belong to my father."

Ron frowned horribly. "How would something from that bas — um, sorry." Draco shrugged lightly. "From your father's Dark Arts collection end up with my sister?" He gave the blond boy a fierce look. "You didn't have anything to do with it, did you?"

Snape gave Ron a cuff on the back of the head before Draco could respond. "Mr Weasley! Use that brain, or I will motivate you through a different part of your anatomy! If Mr Malfoy had been in collusion with someone to distribute Dark artifacts to students at Hogwarts, would he really have brought it to our attention in this fashion?"

Ron rubbed his head and had the grace to look sheepish. "No, sir. Sorry, Malfoy. I guess I shouldn't have stopped you when you tried to grab the thing."

Draco tried not to show how gratified he was by the apology. "I'd probably be protective if I had a little sister too, Weasley," he acknowledged.

"Draco, it just looked like a diary to me; what makes you so sure it's the one that your father had?" Hermione asked, somewhat tentatively.

"It's got some letters embossed on the front," Draco replied. "TMR – that's what first caught my eye. I had expected they'd be Ginny's initials on her diary, so when they weren't it made me think and I realized I'd seen them before."

"I guess. It _could_ still be a coincidence, though," Hermione pointed out.

"But that is not a chance I intend to take with a potential Dark object, Miss Granger," Snape said, ending discussion of the matter. "I will bring this to Professor McGonagall's attention, and I am sure she will confiscate the book in question. In the meantime, if any of you see it, you are to inform Professor McGonagall or myself immediately. If it is a Dark object, it can be very dangerous, and I do not want any of you trying to touch or read it. Do I make myself clear?" All four nodded quickly. His tone left no doubt that he was taking this very seriously and would brook no disobedience. "I need also not remind you that Mr Malfoy's position in this matter is quite tenuous. It would be _extremely _unfortunate if his father were to learn that Mr Malfoy has shared his knowledge with us tonight. Do I make myself clear?" The Gryffindors glanced at each other, then over to where a very pale Draco was staring at his godfather.

Draco looked at Snape with horror in his eyes. In the heat of the moment, he hadn't realized what he was doing, but he had just blurted out information that his father would quite literally kill to protect. If Lucius were playing some deep game with the youngest Weasley as a pawn, it was quite likely to be at the Dark Lord's behest, or at least on his behalf. If Lucius found out that his own son had helped to thwart his machinations, even Draco's status as his heir was unlikely to protect the boy. At the very least, Draco could expect a close and lengthy acquaintance with the _Cruciatus_, coupled with other Death Eater favorites.

Snape put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "It will be all right, Draco," he said softly.

"But if Father ever even _suspects_ –" Draco's voice rose in terror.

"We won't tell," Ron interrupted. "I swear."

"Me too."

"You can have our Wizard's Oaths if you want," Harry offered.

"Honest, Draco. You were trying to help my sister. I swear none of us will ever talk about this again," Ron, for once, looked straight at Draco without a hint of disdain or dislike.

Draco swallowed, some of his panic receding.

"It's a shame in a way," Ron joked, trying to make him feel better. "If I _could_ tell the twins how you tried to help Gin, they might not prank you so often."

Draco managed a weak sneer. "Your idiot brothers' pranks are nothing compared to what my father's reaction would be, Weasley. I think I'll stick with them hating me."

"Yeah, okay," Ron agreed. "Um, sorry that your father's such an arse."

Draco made a noise that was half-laugh, half-sob. "Me too."

"That's enough," Snape said firmly. "There is no value in insulting one's parents, even – or perhaps especially – if they deserve it. Now, you may have some tea and biscuits while I floo Professor McGonagall, then I believe we could all use an early night."

The students, somewhat chastened, headed for the sofa, while Snape went to floo Minerva.

Although an alerted McGonagall intercepted Ginny on her return to the dormitory, Ginny insisted she had lost the diary on her way from the dungeons. A search of her bag, room, and person confirmed that the book was missing, presumably stashed somewhere in the castle. Ginny was put on notice that when found, the book was to be turned in _immediately_ upon pain of a visit to the Headmaster – and the notification of her parents – if she were discovered with it. She in turn insisted it was just a regular diary, where she was keeping track of her assignments and life as a first year, but, as McGonagall told Snape, "it feels wrong, Severus. She's not responding the way she should. It's like she's parroting someone else's words. I'm going to keep a close eye on her, and have Hermione, Harry, and her brothers do the same. If we don't get to the bottom of this soon, we will have to notify her parents."

_TBC..._


	3. Chapter 3

Two days later, Ron received an owl from Charlie at breakfast. Ron waved it excitedly at his friends, and the three promptly fled the Great Hall for a more private spot. "Here," Ron said, opening it. "This is what Charlie says: _Dear Ron, Thanks for the owl. Glad to hear you're staying – mostly – out of trouble. Say hi to the rest of the clan and to Harry and Hermione for me. And tell all your teachers I said hi and that I use the stuff they taught me every day – that should help your grades! Ha, ha. You guys definitely get more interesting homework than I did as a student. I just remember boring old Binns and changing needles into toothpicks – or was it the other way around? Anyway, a question about "what creatures could a parselmouth talk to?" is a lot better. I didn't even know you were taking the class yet! Planning to follow in your Big Bro's footsteps, eh? Ha, ha! Anyway, there are a lot of creatures that are related to serpents – both magical and non-magical – that a Parselmouth might be able to talk to. Of course, this is all hypothetical (ask Hermione if you don't know what that means. Ha, ha!) since there are no living parselmouths – unless you count You Know Who, which I'd rather not. Anyway, like I say, it's all speculation because some of the animals are extinct and we don't exactly have a parselmouth to ask, but here's what I think. Since we know that parselmouths can talk to any living non-magical snake, they should also be able to speak with magical snakes and their relatives. So I would think that a parselmouth should be able to talk to snakes that are products of magic – like snakes in a magic portrait or tapestry – and maybe creatures that are serpents (like a basilisk) or descended from serpents. This could include dragons (wish I were a parselmouth, ha, ha!), nagas ( ½ man, ½ snake), chimeras, and maybe even the snakes on a medusa. Hope that helps. Boy, after all this, you'd better get extra credit! Take care, little bro, and don't give Mum any reason to send you a Howler!! Love, Charlie._"

They all were silent for a few minutes, thinking over the implications of the letter. "Oh no, not another dragon!" Ron groaned.

"But I couldn't talk to Norbert," Harry pointed out. "Maybe parselmouths can't talk to dragons."

"Or maybe it was because he was so young?" Hermione wondered.

"But that would mean that there'd be a grown up dragon around here somewhere, and from what Charlie says, there's no way we'd be able to miss it," Ron argued.

"Okay," Harry said, "so we can cross dragons off the list. What's next?"

"Nagas?" Hermione said. "But their top half is a human, so they wouldn't _need_ to speak parseltongue, right?"

"Right. What about chimeras?" Ron and Harry looked at Hermione.

"Oh, dear. I'm not really good at these," she frowned, thinking. "I'm pretty sure chimeras have a bunch of heads and the body and tail of a snake. So that would be a possibility."

"But if it doesn't have the head of a snake, then how could it talk like a snake?" Harry pointed out. "What was that basilisk thing he mentioned? He said it was a serpent?"

"A basilisk is an enormous snake. Much bigger than regular Muggle or other magical snakes," Hermione explained. "Maybe that would explain why it sounds so different?"

"I guess we can't rule out the chimera or even a medusa either." Harry sighed.

"We still have to figure out where the thing is. I mean, okay, we can't hide a dragon here, but any of the others might be able to stay hidden at Hogwarts. It's pretty big, after all. And that's just the parts we know about," Ron pointed out.

"I'll see what _Hogwarts: A History_ has to say about hidden places or secret passages," Hermione volunteered excitedly.

Ron snickered. "Yeah, right. Like _secret_ passages are gonna be mentioned in a book."

"They might at least refer to legends about them, Ronald," Hermione said, annoyed, "or to parts of the castle that have fallen into disuse and forgotten."

"Oh, yeah. Well, okay then."

"I'm going to go talk to Hagrid," Harry said. "I'm not going to tell him anything, but I have some questions for him."

Over lunch, he headed out to Hagrid's cottage and was, as usual, greeted with happy cries from both Fang and Hagrid. Over a pot of tea and the lamentably unavoidable rock cakes, Harry worked the conversation around to the topic he wanted to discuss. "So, Hagrid, there's something I don't understand about magical creatures. Why are some of them Dark?"

"Ah, well, Harry, that there's a good question," Hagrid sighed. "Me, I think that creatures are just creatures – poor wee beasties usually don't know any better. But if they like to eat people, then they're usually labeled as Dark."

"So… do they eat people because they're Dark, or are they Dark because they eat people?" Harry pressed. At Hagrid's befuddled look, he clarified. "I mean, are they choosing to eat people, or is it just their nature? You know, they sort of have to, the way cats chase mice."

"To my way o' thinking, Harry, it's that they have no choice. See, the way I look at it, if they have a _choice_ about eatin' people, then that's like you an' me. We have a choice about being good or not, right? So if you've gots a _choice_ an' you _choose _to do bad things, then you're evil, see. But for _creatures_ now, there are some that don't have a choice an' it's not their choice, but they're still dangerous. So them's the ones that I'd call Dark."

Harry was now very confused. "So people can be bad or Dark when they choose evil, but if creatures can choose evil, then they're _not_ Dark? They're just bad. But if creatures can't choose but just like wired to eat people, then they _are_ Dark?"

"Aye!" Hagrid said cheerfully.

"Maybe we should use different words," Harry complained. "I guess what I want to know is which creatures don't have a choice but to be evil and which ones do."

Hagrid frowned. "Well, it depends. There're lots o'creatures out there, Harry. You maybe want ter narrow the list some?"

"Well, what would be a magical creature that doesn't have a choice about eating people?"

"I'd say a werewolf doesn't have much choice when the moon is on 'im. He's gotta change and then once he's a wolf, if he sees a human – that's it. Lunch!" Hagrid paused. "Less'n he's had some wolfsbane potion, I mean. See, that let's them keep their human mind so they have choices, like."

"But if a werewolf didn't have their wolfsbane, then they _have_ to eat people?" Harry pressed.

"Aye. Shame too. I know some right nice people who are werewolves," Hagrid said sadly.

"So, Hagrid, when they haven't had their wolfsbane and it's a full moon, can you talk to them? I mean, if you were to try to have a conversation, could you have one? And maybe try to find out why they have to eat people?"

Hagrid wrinkled his brow in unaccustomed thought. "No – no, Harry, can't say as I've ever heard of anyone havin' a chat with a werewolf during the full moon. Mostly they seem to be howlin' and growlin' and rippin' things apart. No real talkin'."

"So, if you could talk with or understand the creature, would that mean you might be able to talk them _out_ of eating people?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Well, now, I suppose that'd make sense," Hagrid agreed. "Seems like you'd at least be able to see why they're so determined to eat you. Not sure that'd really make y' feel that much better in the long run, though."

"Thanks, Hagrid!" Harry said, discreetly passing off his rock cake to Fang as he hurried to his next class.

Inspired by his conversation with Hagrid, and the hopes that he might be able to talk the creature – whatever it was – into adopting a human-free diet, Harry decided it would be safe enough to ask other questions, especially if he asked them of different professors. Accordingly, that night at his usual DADA session with Snape, he said, "Professor, what makes something Dark?"

Snape blinked. This was either a very stupid or very profound question. Before he could request clarification, Harry went on. "I mean, if something is smart enough to think – in words, I mean. Not like a dog or chicken or whatever – then is it smart enough to choose to be Dark? Or do you think that we don't really have choices? That they're made for us?"

Ah. He had wondered when the questions about the prophecy would come. Snape motioned the boy over to the sofa and joined him there. He thought for a moment about how to reply. "Harry," he said, instantly capturing the boy's attention, "I firmly believe that we _do_ have choices in this life. However much our lives may _seem_ pre-ordained, in the end we are the ones who choose the lives we lead. It is true that there is much outside of our control, but no matter what has happened, we still have choices. They may not be the ones we wish we had, but there are always options." Snape was encouraged by Harry's frown of concentration. Obviously the boy was finding this useful. "Look at me, Harry. I took the Dark Mark when I was not much older than you. Some would say that would remove all other choices from me forever. Yet I continued to make choices. I _chose_ to return to the Light. It was not easy – it _is_ not easy – yet it was a choice I could make and I did so. I _chose_ to make you a part of my life –"

"That's not been easy for you either!" Harry piped up, grinning.

Snape gave him a Look. "No. Not in the least. But neither is it a choice I regret. So you see, I do believe that if we are smart enough to be aware of ourselves, to be _able_ to think as you put it, then I believe we choose our own destiny."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. He wasn't sure where Professor Snape had been going at first, with all this weird "preordination" stuff – he'd almost sounded like Trelawny for a moment there! – but in the end, he'd answered the question. Like Hagrid, he thought the creature could be reasoned with. Harry was heartened. He'd never yet met a snake he hadn't gotten along with. Hopefully this creature would turn out to be the same.

"Can I ask you about an Unforgivable?"

Snape gave himself a mental shake. Where had _that_ come from?

Oh. Was all this talk about Darkness and prophecies a sign that Harry was starting to think about his parents' deaths? This could become emotional – he hoped he had extra handkerchiefs in his drawer. "Yes, you can ask me," he said, uncharacteristically tentative.

"Can you Imperius a chicken?" Harry asked.

Snape stared at him. Whatever he had been expecting, this wasn't it. "I don't know," he said finally. "_Can_ you Imperius a chicken?"

Harry shook his head dismissively. "No, no. It's not a riddle. I was really wondering. Can you Imperius chickens – you know, animals that aren't human? Or can you only Imperius humans that can think and have minds and stuff?"

"The difference between the IQ of a chicken and that of some of my students is not as large as you might think," Snape said drily. "At least based on the essays they turn in. But to answer your question, yes, it is possible to Imperius non-humans. Why?"

Harry thought quickly. He certainly couldn't answer that it was because Hermione had discovered that the crow of a rooster could kill a basilisk, and the Trio had wondered how they could get a rooster to crow on command. But no alternative reason leapt to mind, and the delay raised Snape's suspicions. "Mr Potter," he said silkily, "if I learn that you have tried _any_ Unforgivable on _any _creature, I promise you that you will regret it. Profoundly."

"I'm not!" Harry protested. "I was just wondering. That's all." At Snape's skeptical look, Harry changed the subject. "But don't you think I _should_ learn them, sometime I mean? If You Know Who's gonna use them, then –"

"Yes, Mr Potter, the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters will certainly use them," Snape agreed with a sigh. "And yes, you will need to learn them at some point, if only to defend yourself against them. But while I _will_ be teaching them to you, it will_ not_ be for some time yet. You are still too young."

Harry automatically pouted. "I'm twelve!"

"Exactly. _Much_ too young."

"But you will teach me someday," Harry pressed.

"Yes."

"Will you teach me _all_ of them?"

"Yes."

Harry frowned. "Even the green light one?"

Snape blinked. How did he know – ? "Yes."

"I don't want to learn that one," Harry said flatly.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to be a murderer like You Know Who," Harry said fiercely. "I won't!"

"Harry, you will _never_ be a murderer like the Dark Lord," Snape said tiredly. "I can teach you every Dark curse in the world and that won't make you a murderer."

Harry blinked in confusion. "But if you kill someone –"

"Harry, there is a saying: 'If someone is coming to kill you, get up early in the morning and kill them first.'" Harry's jaw dropped. "It is not murder to kill someone before they kill you or to stop them from killing another. It _is_ murder to kill someone who poses no danger to anyone. That is why the Dark Lord is a murderer and you will never be. But, Harry, you _must _learn how to kill, because in order to survive, I promise you that you _will_ have to kill." Harry gulped. No one had ever stated it so bluntly before. "You will have to kill to protect yourself and probably to protect others, whether they are friends of yours like Miss Granger or Mr Weasley, or strangers who cannot help themselves. Death Eaters and the Dark Lord stand for murder and torture and deeds so evil I will not speak of them to you. They must be stopped, and to do that, they must be killed. If you will not do that, you must leave now. Leave the country and seek out a new life. Because if you remain, you will continue to be a focus for the Light and you – and those around you – will continue to be targets of the Dark. So, Harry, you must choose your path. If you will not kill under any circumstance, then tell me now so that I can make arrangements for your safety."

Harry thought for a moment. "My folks – they – they fought Voldemort, didn't they?"

"Yes, Harry. They fought him before they went into hiding, and again on the night he found them. I'm certain your father tried very hard to kill the Dark Lord before he was himself struck down. Your father was an Auror – he understood the distinction I am drawing and was comfortable with it."

"I am too," Harry decided. "Like you said, it's not murder if they want to kill you. You just have to stop them before they can."

"It's more than that, Harry. If you know that they are coming to kill you, then you have an _obligation_ to kill them first. If they will kill you, they will kill others, and knowing of the threat they pose, your obligation is not only to yourself, but to those other innocents as well. If Muggles like Mr and Mrs Granger were about to be attacked by Death Eaters, and the only way to save them was to kill their attackers, would you allow the Grangers to be tortured to death? Or would you kill the Death Eaters?"

"I'd kill the Death Eaters!" Harry answered immediately. He paused, his expression growing grim beyond his years. "I guess I always knew I'd have to. It just – I don't want to become someone I don't like."

Snape's lips twitched. "That is what your friends and I are there to prevent."

"Well, okay then."

_TBC..._


	4. Chapter 4

A week later, and the Trio had made some progress. Hermione had learned enough about the various possible creatures to develop, with Ron's help, plans by which they could be vanquished. "Harry, I really think we should go to a teacher with this," Hermione finally said. "I mean, don't you think Professor Snape will be annoyed that you haven't told him any of this?"

"Yeah, mate. Does he even know you speak parseltongue?" Ron asked.

Harry squirmed. He felt guilty at not telling Snape, but he still had some concerns that he and his friends were wrong, and the voice _was_ just in his head. He didn't want to go to the professor with an elaborate story about chimeras and basilisks only to find that it was all part of his delusion. No, he'd wait until he had _proof_ that there was some magical creature running around the castle before telling anyone. "He's been really busy looking for that diary, guys," he explained lamely. "I don't want to bother him with this until we're sure of our facts."

The dubious looks he got made it clear that his friends weren't fooled by his excuse, but he knew they'd keep his secret. A little longer, at least. "Hey, is Ginny any better?"

Ron's face turned grim. "No. Professor McGonagall had Madame Pomfrey check her out. I don't know a lot of what they found, but I overheard McGonagall talking to Percy –"

"Was that when you were accidentally leaning against McGonagall's door?" Harry asked, grinning.

"Ha, ha. It's not like anyone tells us anything," Ron returned. "Anyway, she said something about how Ginny's magical core is being drained, but they can't figure out why. If they can't stop it soon, they're going to have to send her to St Mungo's. Pomfrey's keeping her in the Infirmary until they decide what to do."

"This is so odd," Hermione sighed. "Things like this don't happen at Muggle boarding schools! What is going on this year? I mean, first Professor Snape decides he likes Harry – and Harry decides he likes Professor Snape – and then Malfoy starts acting like a human, mostly, and then some weird half-mythical creature starts haunting the place, and then Ginny gets sick and a Dark artifact goes missing and…" She sighed. "And this is only our second year!"

"You know," Harry said thoughtfully, "you were talking about haunting. What if the voice is a ghost? Or what if Ginny's being drained by a ghost?"

"There are plenty of ghosts around this place, mate," Ron pointed out. "No one's been bugging you or draining students before now."

"I guess," Harry sounded unconvinced. "I just wish I knew what the ghosts know. They've been here so long, after all. Like Hermione says, it's only our second year. I wonder if any of this stuff _did_ happen before. I bet the ghosts could tell us if it has."

Ron shrugged. "Okay, so which one do we ask?"

"Ron, I didn't want to say anything before, just in case this was the sort of thing Ginny normally does, but I've seen her sneaking into Moaning Myrtle's lavatory several times," Hermione revealed, looking pink.

The redhead looked insulted. "My sister doesn't normally hang around in toilets!"

"Don't get offended! I didn't know if that was the only place in the Burrow where she could go to have some privacy."

"Nah, Gin's got her own room for all that girl stuff. She's never spent any extra time in a lav before – I mean," he blushed, "unless it was, er, necessary."

"Then I say the first ghost we talk to is Myrtle," Hermione said.

And so on Saturday afternoon, the three of them ventured into Myrtles' lair. "Remember, be nice!" Hermione instructed. "Don't go upsetting her!"

"Eeeeeew! Boys! Boys in the girls' lavatory!" Myrtle floated over, pointing accusingly at Ron and Harry.

"Er, they're with me, Myrtle," Hermione offered. "They've been saying how much they'd like to talk with you."

"Really?" Myrtle asked suspiciously. "Why?"

"Er, well, because you've been here a while and you must have seen some interesting stuff," Harry began.

"Bad boy!" Myrtle scolded. "You're a bad boy for wanting to know what goes on in a girls' toilet! You have a nasty, dirty mind!"

Harry turned fiery red and started to stammer out a denial, but Myrtle turned her back on him.

"Er, Myrtle, I was talking to some of the girls, and we were thinking of having a makeover party here. Would you like that? We could all do each other's hair and try different makeup styles." Hermione offered temptingly.

Myrtle looked sulky. "You can't do _my_ makeup or hair. It's not very nice to have a party where not everyone can participate."

"I don't see why you'd want to change the way you look, Myrtle," Ron surged into the fray. "I think you're awfully pretty just the way you are."

To everyone's surprise, Myrtle simpered. "Really? You're a nice boy. What's your name?"

"Er, Ron. Nice to meet you."

"Hi, Ron. I always liked redheads," Myrtle giggled. Hermione and Harry exchanged astonished looks behind the ghost's semi-transparent back, while Ron smirked and tried to hide his blush.

"Well, uh, I always liked girls that – that look like you," he said, manfully struggling to keep the conversation going. "Uh, I bet you had lots of boyfriends, um, before."

"Oh, you!" she swatted at him with a ghostly hand. "You just say that to all the girls!"

"No, no!" Ron said with absolute sincerity. "Honest!"

"I like you," Myrtle confided. "You're not like the others who come in here. They just make fun of me or ignore me."

"I can't believe anyone would ignore you, Myrtle," Ron protested.

"She did! That little redheaded girl always ignores me!" Myrtle insisted. "The last time, she walked _right through_ me to get to that last stall! I think that's just the rudest thing, don't you?"

While Ron soothed and schmoozed Ginny, Hermione and Harry made a beeline for the indicated stall. Sure enough, a few moments' searching revealed a leatherbound journal hidden behind the toilet. "Harry," Hermione said flatly, "now we _need_ to tell Professor Snape. No more delays. Not when it might help Ginny."

Harry nodded. "You're right, 'Mione. Let's go get him."

Leaving the book where it was, they hurried out, finding Ron and Myrtle in companionable conversation. "Hey guys, look what Myrtle was showing me. She says hers is the only toilet in all of Hogwarts that has its own special decorations." He pointed to some small carved snakes on the wall.

"Wow!" Harry said. "Those things almost look real."

"_We are as real as we need to be, foolish human!" _

Harry reared back. _"You can talk?"_

The snakes reared back, the stone carving following their movement. "_You can talk?"_

Harry turned to his friends. "Guys, look!"

"_Does the little master wish to go below?"_ one of the snakes hissed.

"_Below where?"_

"_Why, into the Chamber of Secrets, of course. But beware, the Creature has Awakened and it hungers."_

Harry turned back to the others. "They're talking about some Chamber with a Creature in it. I think there must be some kind of entrance here. Go get Snape. I'll try to learn more about what's going on while you bring him here."

Ron and Hermione turned to go, then Ron turned back. "Harry – you won't do anything on your own?"

Harry shook his head firmly. "No way. Snape would _kill_ me."

"And we would too!" Hermione agreed. She gave Harry a quick hug. "We'll be right back, and we'll bring help!"

#

Ron ran down to the dungeons. "Please be there, please be there, please be there," he thought frantically as he pounded on the door to Snape's quarters.

"Mr Weasley, you had better have an excellent reason for behaving in so boorish a manner –" Snape snapped, yanking the door open.

"Harry – Chamber – Creature!" Ron panted, out of breath from his race down the stairs.

Snape's eyes widened. "What?"

"Harry's a parselmouth," Ron gasped. "He's been hearing voices. We think it's a snake or basilisk or maybe a chimera somewhere in the castle. We – pant, pant – went to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and found Ginny's diary there, but then Harry started talking to some snakes and they told him about the chamber and they said there's a creature –"

Snape's lips had tightened into a thin line as Ron's explanation progressed. "You foolish children!" he snarled, dragging Ron into his rooms. "Don't you know how Myrtle died? She was petrified by the stare of a basilisk!"

"Wow." Ron was genuinely amazed. "We got it right. I guess research _does_ work."

Snape didn't waste time smacking him, he was too busy running to the floo. "Albus! Minerva!"

As soon as the witch and wizard answered his urgent summons, he quickly summarized, "Potter is in Myrtle's lavatory. He is a parselmouth and can apparently open the Chamber. He's also found the Riddle diary. Get the other teachers and meet me there! Albus, if you have a pair of protective glasses from the last episode with the basilisk, bring them!" Not waiting for a reply, Snape dashed from the room. Ron started after him but then had a better idea and ran back to the fireplace.

Hermione, meanwhile, was equally busy. After Harry's conversation with Snape, she had practiced and practiced and was now able to Imperius a chicken with ease. She raced to the Owlrey. "Hedwig! You have to come with me!" she said, grabbing the startled snowy owl. "Harry's in trouble!"

Hedwig hooted and immediately latched onto Hermione's shoulder as the girl raced down the steps, heading for Hagrid's chicken coop. A few minutes later, she had two roosters and one half-giant hurrying behind her as she made her way back to the castle. "Oh! I almost forgot!"

"Hermione!" Hagrid bellowed. "That be the wrong way!"

"I need one more!" she yelled back, not slowing down.

Harry, meanwhile, had given up talking to Myrtle. The ghost, having decided he was a _nasty_ boy, was giving him the cold shoulder. After much internal debate, Harry decided to retrieve the diary from the stall. After all, Snape was on his way, so it wasn't as if he weren't going to hand it over immediately. But ever since he'd seen the book, he'd felt a weird desire to touch it. Just to feel it in his hands. To see if he could sense the Dark magic Draco claimed it contained.

_I won't open it_, he told himself. _I'll just pick it up and put it in my pocket_. Carefully, using his robe to shield his bare hands, he pulled the diary out and slipped it into his pocket. It felt weird. Not cold exactly, but not like a regular book either. Or maybe that was just his imagination giving him the creeps.

Harry wandered back to the carved snakes. "_Hi – um, can you please tell me about the creature?"_

"_Little speaker, beware. The Creature is hungry. It hurts. It aches. It needs to feed."_

Harry felt a twinge of pity. Thanks to the Dursleys, he knew what it was like to be hungry._ "Where is it?"_

"_Down below."_

"_How would I get there?"_

"_Just tell the way to open before you."_

"_What do you mean? Just say ' Open, please'?"_

And it did.

Whatever Harry had been expecting, it wasn't the abrupt opening of the floor beneath him. He suddenly stood at the edge of a yawning pit, and frightened, he jerked backwards towards safer footing.

It was the leaky toilets which proved his undoing. He skidded on the wet, slick surface, and with a startled cry, tumbled forward into the abyss.

_TBC..._


	5. Chapter 5

Harry found himself in a dark and cold stone tunnel and immediately drew his wand. Casting a _Lumos_, he hesitantly walked forward. The portal behind him had closed and it looked both steep and unpromising. He hoped he might find either another way out or a more defensible position further ahead. Snape's DADA lessons at the forefront of his mind, he moved cautiously, wrinkling his nose at the crunch of bones underfoot.

"Hmmm, what have we here? You're quite the runt, aren't you?"

Harry jerked backwards, wand coming up protectively. "Who are you?" he demanded, looking at the boy in the Hogwarts uniform.

"Tom Riddle. That's my diary you have there. Give it back to me, boy."

Harry automatically bristled at the term. Uncle Vernon had always called him _boy_ and he hated it. "What are you doing here? Are you a ghost like Myrtle?"

"No, you little fool. Haven't you figured out exactly who I am?" At Harry's confused look, Riddle waved his own wand and his full name appeared above his head. Then the letters reshuffled themselves and…

"You're Lord Voldemort?" Harry gasped in shock. He looked at the other boy and wondered how he could have changed from an attractive young man to the horror he'd seen in the back of Quirrell's skull.

Riddle sneered. "Obviously letting in all the mudbloods has caused Hogwarts' standards to drop. I assure you students weren't so slow in my day."

"Oh yeah?" Harry snapped back. "Well, _Tom_, you're in for a shock when you see what your future holds. Get ready to be real ugly."

Riddle laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "Get ready to be real dead, boy. Who do you think you are?"

"I think I'm Harry Potter," Harry retorted. "I've already beaten you twice, _Tom_, so don't expect me to get all worked up about doing it a third time."

"Temper, temper," chided the other. "Why so grumpy with me? You'd think I had injured you personally or something."

"You killed my parents, you twisted freak," Harry spat.

Riddle waved a hand. "So I killed your parents. I've killed a lot of people. Besides, what good are parents anyway? Take it from me, I did you a favor. Parents are useless. Always telling you what to do and belting you and stopping you from doing fun things."

The argument might – just might – have worked on a more naïve pre-teen with nice, normal, protective parents. Someone who had not yet learned to appreciate their parents but who had merely begun, as adolescents do, to chafe under their increasingly burdensome rules. But for someone like Harry, an orphan who had always dreamed of having a family of his own, the words were a red flag to a bull. Harry erupted in fury.

"YOU BASTARD! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

"Not if I have _it_ kill you first," Riddle smirked, gesturing at something past Harry.

"_Food? Food!"_ The voice was directly behind Harry and he froze. He remembered what Hermione had said about basilisks – or was it chimeras? – and knew he couldn't risk looking around.

"_Er, hello there?_" he said nervously.

"_It speaks! It is a speaker!"_

"_Yes, hi – I'm Harry. Nice to meet you. Erm, who are you?_"

"_Kill him!_" Riddle interrupted. _"This isn't a tea party. Don't introduce yourselves. Eat him!"_

"_Why are you listening to him?"_ Harry quickly asked, his eyes tightly shut and every muscle in his body trembling. "_You don't have to do what he says, you know._"

"_My master sent him – I must obey,_" the whispery voice said.

"_Who is your master?_" Harry gulped, feeling his last hope slip away.

"_I serve Salazar Slytherin. This is his heir"_

"_What?"_ Harry yelped. _"Slytherin didn't send this idiot! If he told you that, he's lying!"_

"_WHAT?_" Both basilisk and Riddle shouted at him.

"_Slytherin died a thousand years ago!_" Harry argued. _"This imposter never knew him. He may have declared himself Slytherin's heir, but Slytherin never anointed him!"_

"_Is this true?"_ The huge snake's voice was unmistakably menacing.

"_Nonsense. The child lies. Kill him and eat him! Didn't I promise you food? Here he is."_

"_I'm not lying! Ask anyone – Slytherin has been dead for centuries. This freak isn't even as old as Dumbledore!"_

"_Who is Dumbledore?"_

"_He's the Headmaster. How long have you been down here, anyway?"_

"_I slept for many many years, then this one roused me some five decades past, telling me he was my master's heir. Now he has awakened me again."_

"_You mean he hasn't let you outside in all these years? Not once?"_ Harry asked sympathetically. He knew what it was like to be locked up and starved. _"Listen, I've been locked up in little places and not given any food too. You don't deserve to be treated like that. No one does. Why would you listen to anyone who did that?"_

"_Shut up! I command you to EAT THAT BOY!"_

"_I don't want to,_" the basilisk retorted, sounding petulant. _"He's right. You have no proof that you are the heir of my master."_

"_I am a parselmouth!"_

"_So's he. He's not claiming to be my master's heir."_

"_Listen, if you're hungry, I can probably find you something to eat,"_ Harry offered._ "Not people, mind, but we can work something out. I have a friend who has plenty of experience with – erm – challenging dietary habits. And he's a half-giant, so you don't have to worry about squashing him."_

"_Hagrid? Are you talking about that idiot? I should have had him killed, not expelled!" _Riddle screamed in fury. _"I ORDER YOU TO STOP TALKING AND EAT HIM!"_

"_Oh, shut up!_" Harry snapped. _"I don't suppose you can eat __him__?"_

"_Alas, he is not really there. He is a magical apparition, tied to some object."_

Harry dug in his pocket. "_You mean like this book?"_ he asked. _"Can you eat __it_?"

"No! Stop!" Riddle turned pale. "Boy – Harry. You don't want to do this. You don't want to become a murderer."

Harry's eyes remained tightly shut, but his features could have been carved out of stone. "You killed my parents. You killed lots of other people. And you're still telling your Death Eaters to kill more. You better believe I'll kill you if I can. That's not murder, it's self defense. And this isn't even that – I'm just recycling an old book."

He tossed the diary towards the basilisk who snatched it out of the air and chewed meditatively, ignoring the shrieks from the disintegrating figure now clawing futilely at Harry. _"A poor appetizer,_" it commented. _"You mentioned something about food?"_

"_Well, if you absolutely positively must have people, I can try to find you some Death Eaters, but it would be awfully convenient if you'd settle for some meat and veg. For example, how do you feel about sheep?"_

"_I have no strict requirement for human flesh. Basilisks are omnivores, you know. Sheep and cows are acceptable. I like fruit, but cabbage gives me wind. Broccoli is all right though. No chicken."_

"_If it's all right with you, I'll go upstairs and find my friends. They'll know where to get the food for you. Do you want to leave the Chamber? Take a walk or something?"_

The basilisk thought for a moment. _"That would be nice. It's been a millennium since I've seen the sun, you know."_

"_Okay, but it may take a few minutes. We don't want you to petrify anyone."_

The basilisk sniffed. _"It's always one complication or another, isn't it? Very well, but be quick about it, Master."_

"_Master? Um, I'm not your – "_

"_If Slytherin is dead, then I have no master, and you have been the only Speaker in a millennium who has shown any concern for my wishes. You will do. Unless you do not wish to be my master?" _There was a pregnant pause.

"_Er, no, no! I'd be honored!_" Harry said hastily.

"_Good choice," _said the basilisk meaningfully. _"Now go get my food, Master."_

"_Right, right."_

Harry hurried back down the tunnel and – now that he was no longer petrified of being eaten by a monster – was able to see what he had missed before. A narrow, winding staircase made its way up from the stony depths of the Chamber. He climbed as quickly as he could, then requested the stone serpents to open the portal. He tumbled out to find a riot occurring in Myrtle's lavatory.

"Harry!" Loud voices hailed him from all sides, and he confusedly made out the voices of Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, Ron, and Hermione before he was roughly grabbed and enfolded in the tightest embrace he could ever remember.

"Harry, Harry," a low voice whispered brokenly over and over into his hair.

Shocked, he twisted his head up to find himself staring at Professor Snape. Almost as soon as Harry realized who was hugging him, Snape realized what he was doing and shoved Harry out to arms' length. "Are you all right?" he demanded furiously.

Harry nodded, speechless.

"DON'T YOU EVER DO THAT TO ME AGAIN!" He felt himself spun around and a hard whack landed on his backside.

"Ow!" he yelped, regaining his voice.

"_Master? Are you in jeopardy?"_ the basilisk's voice drifted up through the open portal.

"_Uh, no. No, thanks for asking. Just, um, explaining what's been going on. My – erm – father wasn't very happy with my going down there alone."_

The basilisk laughed. _"I will not help you with that kind of peril, Master! You see why being hatched from an egg is superior to what you warmbloods do!"_

Harry rubbed his butt. _"Yes, I see your point. Hold on just a few more minutes."_ He turned back to the others, now staring at him wide eyed. "So, um, that's sort of my basilisk."

The others just blinked at him. He stared back, chewing his lip and wondering where to begin. Hermione had Hedwig on one shoulder and Fawkes on the other, while Hagrid was holding onto two chickens and Ron had a third cradled in his arms. Dumbledore was wearing what appeared to be a peculiar pair of sunglasses, and McGonagall actually had tears streaming down her face. Snape wore his usual poker face, and if it hadn't been for his smarting rear, Harry would have sworn he had imagined the panicked whispers and hug.

"Uh, Hermione – what's with all the birds?"

"Oh! Well, the book said that the rooster crow would kill the basilisk, but I thought I'd bring Hedwig and Fawkes along too in case the book was wrong and it was some other kind of bird song. I told Hagrid to bring his roosters, and I've got the Imperius down cold, so if you need them to crow –"

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "No – the basilisk sort of belongs to me now, and I promised we'd feed it and give it a walk and stuff. It's been locked up there now for over a thousand years. No wonder it got a little hungry and cranky. Oh, and Voldemort was down there too – only this time he looked like he was a student here. It was really weird to see him with a prefect's badge," Harry commented absently. "But my basilisk ate the diary that was creating his magical illusion, so I think he's pretty much gone now. Will that make Ginny better, Professor McGonagall?"

She sniffed and nodded. "Yes, Mr Potter. Good work. Ten points to G-G-Gryffindor." She raised her handkerchief to her eyes again.

"Um, thanks. Er, Ron – what's up with your chicken?"

Ron shrugged. The bird in his hand looked distinctly different from the ones Hagrid was holding. "I wasn't sure if Hermione would be able to find any, so I floo'd home and grabbed one from the Burrow. Mum nearly had a stroke when I popped through, but I yelled you were fighting a basilisk and needed a chicken and that stopped her." Ron paused, looking thoughtful. "On second thought, she might drop by to check on us."

"Oh. Well, it'll be nice to see her," Harry said politely. "Hagrid, do you think you'd be willing to look after a basilisk? It's very nice, actually, and I think once it gets fed it will be a lot less likely to talk about blood and killing."

"Hmmm." Hagrid scratched his head. "'M not sure I rightly know what basilisks eat."

"It says they're omnivores and likes sheep and cows and broccoli and fruit – but cabbage gives it, er, gas, so that probably wouldn't be a good idea. No chicken, obviously."

"Hmmm. Some of our neighbors got some flocks o' sheep," Hagrid mused. "How big is this beastie, Harry?"

"I'm not exactly sure, Hagrid. I kinda kept my eyes closed – you know, the whole thing about its stare?"

"Perhaps we can remedy that," Dumbledore said, speaking for the first time. "Minerva, if you were to transfigure a pair of spectacles for the creature, I could perform a reversal of this spell…"

"And then, so long as the basilisk's eyes were shielded, it would pose no threat! What a good idea, Professor!" Hermione finished brightly.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," Albus twinkled at her. "Minerva, would you do the honors? Harry, perhaps you will put on my pair of protective spectacles and then ensure that your basilisk understands what is needed?"

"Yes, sir. _Er, are you still there?"_ he called.

"_Yes. Still here, Master. And still hungry_," came the rather pointed reply.

"_I'm working on that. Um, would you be willing to wear something over your eyes so you don't kill all my friends?"_

"_If you so order it, Master,_" the creature sighed. _"You know I will only kill upon your orders, though?"_

"_That's good to know, but I think it would just make everyone feel a little safer."_

"_As you wish. And the food?"_

"_Yes, I know. Um, do you have a name?"_

"_Would you like to give me one?"_

Harry paused, realizing he wasn't even sure of the basilisk's gender. _"Er, maybe it would be better if you chose it yourself."_

"_Hmmmm. I have always liked the name Morgana."_

"_That's very nice. Just be patient a little longer, please, Morgana."_ Harry turned to the others. "Okay, her name is Morgana –"

"Morgana the basilisk?" Ron choked.

"You want to argue with her?" Harry retorted. Ron shook his head vigorously.

"Anyway, she says she'll only petrify people if I tell her to, but she's willing to wear the glasses or goggles or whatever."

"Fine, fine, my boy. I will give you this pair, and then you will go down and -"

"No."

Everyone turned to Snape.

"Excuse me, my dear b–"

"No. Harry is _not_ going down there alone again. Conjure up some more spectacles, Albus."

Harry started to say he didn't mind, but one look from Snape silenced him.

Dumbledore looked nonplused. "It is not an easy spell, Severus, and –"

"Call Filius to help with the Charm, but Harry is not going down there alone."

Dumbledore sighed and capitulated. In the end, Snape, Harry, Minerva, Hagrid, and Albus went down together, all wearing the protective spectacles.

When Harry caught his first sight of Morgana, he gulped and grabbed Professor Snape's hand. Snape squeezed back hard.

Morgana was bigger than the Knight Bus. She was enormous. She was also very pretty, though it was hard to appreciate the irridiscent luster of her scales in the dim Chamber. Hagrid started oohing and aahing and making incoherent noises of admiration, which had Morgana slithering about him in a very affectionate manner.

"_I like this one, Master. He is most appreciative of my beauty."_

"_That's Hagrid, Morgana. He'll be in charge of feeding you."_

"_I like him even more, Master. Hello, little human," _she rested her chin on Hagrid'shead and the half-giant managed – barely – not to collapse.

"She likes me!" he exclaimed happily "Look! She likes me!"

With McGonagall and Albus working together to size and charm the spectacles, soon Morgana was sporting an odd but efficient pair that completely covered her eyes.

"_You look really nice, Morgana. It's like an, um, fashion accessory,"_ Harry said politely.

"_Thank you, Master. Now, where is my food?"_

Getting Morgana out of the Chamber was a bit tricky. Filius had been dispatched to move all chickens from the area so there was no threat to the basilisk, but squeezing Morgana through the opening took both time and tact. Ron and Hermione, watching the giant serpent emerge, clutched hands and backed up into the farthest stall.

It was decided that McGonagall would go ahead to negotiate the purchase of several flocks of sheep and truckloads of vegetables from nearby farms. Meanwhile, in order to forestall any panic by students or staff, the Headmaster would accompany Hagrid and Morgana out of the castle. The house elves had already been asked to deposit all available fruits and vegetables from the kitchen – with the exception of cabbage – on the Quidditch pitch, as that seemed the most reasonable dining area for the basilisk. "I'll also ask the castle to make Morgana a suitably sized entrance so that she may reenter the Chamber without so much inconvenience," Dumbledore said. "It will be nice to have another means of protecting the school in these perilous times," he added with a fond smile at Harry. "When I return, you will have to tell us the whole story."

"Yes, Professor." Harry smiled back. He had done it! He had saved Ginny and defeated Voldemort and he had even managed to befriend a giant snake! …So why wasn't he feeling more excited?

He felt a hand drop on his shoulder and glimpsed a black sleeve. Oh. Right.

"I will see you in my chambers now, Mr Potter," Snape said forbiddingly.

"Um, maybe I should go with Morgana?" he ventured.

"Now."

Harry's shoulders slumped. "Yessir." He managed a weak grin at Ron and Hermione's worried expressions.

"You two – await the Headmaster's return at his office," Snape instructed. "_After_ you have made certain that the various fowl have been returned to their respective homes."

"Yes, sir," they chorused, watching as Harry and Snape headed downstairs.

_TBC..._


	6. Chapter 6

The instant the door to Snape's quarters closed behind them, Harry burst into speech. "I _swear_ I didn't mean to go into the Chamber. I just accidentally opened it and then I fell in. You can ask Myrtle. I swear it was an accident. I wasn't trying to go in alone. I promised Hermione and Ron I wouldn't. It just happened. I didn't mean –"

"All right. I believe you."

"You do?" Harry asked, amazed. He had assumed he'd have to beg for Veritaserum before Snape would accept his word about something like this.

"Yes." Snape didn't tell him that during those long, long minutes after he had reached the bathroom and realized Harry was in the Chamber alone and there was no way for anyone else to open the portal, he had reduced not only Ron and Hermione, but Myrtle as well, to terrified tears by demanding to know _exactly_ what had happened up to that point.

"Oh," Harry breathed a little easier. "Okay. Well. Good. So, um, why do you still look mad?"

Snape removed his robe and rolled up his sleeves. Harry gulped and retreated a pace. "When did you first realize something was wrong?" Snape asked silkily.

Harry swallowed hard. "A couple of weeks ago."

"And when did you share your parselmouth talent with your friends?"

"Around the same time."

"And when did you plan to tell me about it?"

"Earlier today," Harry squeaked.

"THAT is why you are being punished," Snape said furiously, grabbing Harry by the ear and dragging him over to the nearest chair.

"Ouch!" Harry protested. "But – but – I would have told you eventually!"

"I have made it clear that you are _not_ to keep relevant information to yourself, _particularly _when it pertains to your safety!" Snape retorted, pulling the boy across his knee. "Was I not _very clear_ on this point?"

"Yes," Harry admitted miserably.

"Indeed," Snape replied and brought his hand down hard enough to make Harry howl.

Harry yelled blue murder as Snape proceeded to administer the hardest walloping Harry had yet received. The first half-dozen swats set up a fiery inferno over his entire bum, then the last few targeted the particularly sensitive area on which Harry normally sat.

In one small part of his brain, the only part that wasn't fully occupied with the blazing sting in his backside, Harry appreciated the irony that Snape was saying, through gritted teeth, "I am NOT the enemy, you arrogant, foolish, shortsighted child! I am here to HELP you!" while he whacked the daylights out of Harry's bum. Still, despite his loud protests, Harry knew Snape had a point. He had put himself and his friends at risk by not involving Snape until the last minute, and what was more, he had probably hurt the man's feelings as well. Snape was doing so much to help Harry, and yet when a problem presented itself, Harry insisted on tackling it alone, ignoring all the effort Snape had put into building their relationship and helping Harry learn to trust him.

When Snape finally set him back on his feet, Harry was bawling, almost as much out of the guilt he felt as from the incandescent glow in his behind. He hadn't known his bum could _hurt_ so much. It felt like he was sitting on a hot stove while at the same time a swarm of fire hornets repeatedly stung him.

Snape marched him over to the nearest corner and stood him there. "Think about what _could_ have happened because you were too idiotic to come to me," he ordered, giving Harry's behind one last smack and prompting a fresh flood of tears with his harsh tone.

Harry hated the corner. There was nothing to distract him from just how awful his bottom felt, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot in an awkward dance to ease some of the sting. He knew that the worst of it would soon fade, leaving only the heat and throbbing ache, but this time it was taking much longer than usual. Snape must have been _really _mad.

Harry sniffled. He was such an idiot. He should have trusted Snape. He should have told him and gotten his help right from the start. What if he hadn't been able to make Morgana like him? What would have happened to Ginny? What if Ron and Hermione had been with him when he fell into the Chamber? He wiped at the tears still coursing down his face. He could have gotten all of them killed.

His behind still stung and throbbed, but he was finally able to rest his hands on his sore cheeks. Rubbing still hurt too much. Harry's breath hitched in a hiccup as he wondered what he could do to make things right with Snape. How could he prove to the man that he _did_ trust him, when his actions argued otherwise?

"Here, you horrible brat." A handkerchief appeared over his shoulder, and with a hiccupped "Th'k'y" Harry mopped up most of the tears and blew his nose.

"Are you composed enough to talk to me?" Snape asked, his voice still stern.

Harry nodded, too ashamed to look at the professor. Snape took him by the back of the neck and marched him, limping and wincing, back to the chair. He sat down and – putting Harry between his knees – forced the boy's chin up. "Now then, I believe I deserve an explanation."

Harry sniffled again. He wished he could sit on Snape's lap as he explained, babyish though that was, but even if Snape had been willing, he knew his battered backside wouldn't be up to sitting anytime soon. He took a deep breath and forced himself to speak. " 'M sorry. I should've told you earlier. I was just…" He blinked back tears. "… scared that you'd think I was crazy and wouldn't like me any more. That's all. I _do_ trust you. Honest," he whimpered.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, Harry," he said, sounding more sad than angry. "You don't. If you trusted me, you wouldn't be so worried about my continuing regard for you."

"No, no," Harry tried tearfully to explain. "It's not you. It's me. I trust you. It's me I don't trust. I'm gonna do something to mess it up. Cuz I'm really just a worthless freak or crazy or something."

"Those --ing Muggles," Snape snarled, and Harry's eyes widened despite his tears. Snape had just _sworn. _And not just a nice normal swear word. He had used a _really_ bad one.

"Do _not_ let me hear you use that term until you are my age," Snape said quickly, and Harry almost smiled.

"All right, Mr Potter," Snape said, fixing Harry with a gimlet eye. "You listen to me and mark me well. I will not permit anyone – _including_ _you_ –" he said, tapping Harry on the nose "- to call my ward a worthless freak. It is insulting to both of us, it is unkind, and what is more, it is inaccurate. If you use that term again, you will be punished most severely."

Harry gulped. With his rear this sore, even the _thought_ of another spanking was enough to turn him green with apprehension.

"Harry, would Draco be so jealous of you if you were truly a worthless freak?" Snape waited patiently until Harry reluctantly shook his head. "Would Granger and Weasley be so quick to follow your lead, risking their own lives in the process, if you were a worthless freak?" Harry shook his head again. "Would the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall care so much about you if you were a worthless freak?" Head shake. "Did you _see_ Professor McGonagall earlier ? Do you think she cries like that over all her students?" Harry gave a tiny smile and shook his head. "Do you think _I_ would care about you if you were truly a worthless freak?" This time the head shake was more tentative, and Snape scowled. "What about the Death Eaters, Harry? If you were a worthless freak, why would they care so much about the need for your capture or death? Why would the Dark Lord be so fixated on you if you were merely a worthless freak? Well? Can you come up with a reason?"

Harry took a deep shuddering breath. For the first time, he really started to believe what Snape was saying. "No," he admitted. "I can't."

"I would think not," Snape said with finality.

There was a moment of silence.

"I was really scared in the Chamber," Harry said very quietly, staring at the floor.

"I was really scared while you were in the Chamber," Snape admitted, equally quietly. "I wish I had been there with you."

"I don't!" Harry said, shocked. "I might have gotten you killed too!"

Snape stared at him. _Too?_ What did the boy mean? "What are you talking about? You haven't ever 'gotten anyone killed'."

Harry dropped his gaze and nodded once. "Did so."

"Who?"

"M' parents," Harry's voice was almost inaudible, but Snape reeled back as if slapped. _What! What absurd notions were torturing the boy? _But then again, what did Harry actually know of that night? Hadn't someone said that the boy only learned about his parents' deaths by reading a history text? Those --ing Muggles. Snape was _definitely_ going to leak their address to Lucius.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

Harry sighed and looked at Snape with ineffable sadness in his eyes. "It was all my fault that they died. If Voldemort had just waited until we were all asleep, he could have come in and tried to kill me in my crib. Or spotted me through a window or something. Then the spell would've rebounded and he'd be gone and my parents would be alive. They only died because they were trying to protect me. That's why I'm a worthless freak. Because my parents died for nothing. Trying to save nothing."

Snape felt cold. Ice was running through his veins and his heart was cracking with the pain of it. He sat very, very still for a long moment then: "_Accio_ healing potion."

Harry looked at him, puzzled. He had thought he might get whacked again for calling himself a worthless freak, but he needed to make Snape understand that it wasn't _his_ fault that Harry was too stupid to tell him stuff. And right now, he just felt too sad and exhausted to really care all that much. Though that would probably change once Snape started walloping him again.

"Take this," Snape said, holding out the potion.

Harry pulled back a little. "But I'm not hurt. Morgana didn't hurt me and neither did Volde- "

"Not for the Chamber. For what I did to you."

Harry stared at him in shock. "But that was just a spanking! I mean, it still stings and all, but you weren't, y'know, abusive or anything."

Snape's lips twitched. "I know. But I don't want you distracted from what I am about to tell you by _anything_, even the after-effects of a well-deserved punishment."

Harry started to take the potion, then paused, looking at Snape warily. "Are you going to heal me and then whack me again later?"

Snape scowled. "When have I ever punished you twice for the same thing? Take the potion, brat!"

Harry hastily obeyed.

The smarting in his bum abruptly vanished, and he relaxed with a sigh of relief. He hadn't realized how much it still hurt until it no longer did.

"It's not as if you didn't feel the sting of the spanking," Snape pointed out, as much to himself as Harry. "It just didn't last as long as it might have. I trust you have nevertheless learned your lesson?"

Harry nodded quickly. "Yes, sir! No need for it to last any longer, sir!"

"All right. Then come here." To Harry's secret delight, Snape moved to the sofa and pulled Harry onto his lap. He paused, gathering his thoughts, then turned to face Harry. "I want you to listen to me very closely." Harry nodded, his face equally serious.

"As I told you before, when I was a child, I lived near your mother's family." Harry nodded. "I knew both your mother, Lily, and your Aunt Petunia, from the time Lily and I were about eight. I tell you this so that you know I speak the truth. I'm not telling you what someone told me. I'm telling you what I _saw_ and _know_." He waited for Harry's nod of confirmation before continuing.

"Harry, when Lily's magic revealed itself, Petunia was wildly jealous." He caught the boy as Harry nearly toppled off his lap in astonishment. "She wanted to be able to do magic herself, and she tried and she tried to prove she was a witch like Lily. When it became clear that she was a Muggle, all that envy turned to anger and hatred. She decided if she couldn't be magic, then there must be something wrong with it. She deliberately married a man whose prejudices matched her own, who refused to see beyond the end of his nose and who hated and feared anything he didn't understand and couldn't control.

"The Dursleys were jealous and frightened of you, Harry. You had the magic that Petunia had always wanted. You would one day join the Wizarding society that was closed to her. You were, even as a child, more powerful than your uncle, and he knew that. That's why they tried so hard to control you, with words, with beatings, with anything they could. They accuse you of being the thing they know you're not, Harry, because it's how they feel around you.

"They are certain that _they_ are the worthless freaks and so they turn it around and try to make you believe that it's true of you instead. They want you to believe it not because it is true, but because it is false. It is the lie that they want you to accept, as that would suit their wishes and their petty jealousy."

Harry stared at Snape, trying to process what he had said. Aunt Petunia was jealous of him? Uncle Vernon was scared of him? Harry's world had just been turned on its head.

"The next time you catch yourself thinking that you are not good enough or smart enough or brave enough – the next time you begin to feel like you are stupid or worthless or freakish or crazy – I want you to remind yourself of what I've said. That those feelings are lies, drummed into you by two weak, frightened, jealous Muggles who desperately want what you have. Do you understand?"

Harry swallowed. "I'll try," he promised, his voice still uncertain.

Snape studied him for a moment, then nodded in satisfaction. He would have to say these things again – many, many times – before Harry would be able to overcome the conditioning of his childhood, but they had made a good start here today.

"Now. On to the other misconception you hold." Snape took a deep breath. "Harry, no one truly understands how you came to be protected from Voldemort on the night your parents died. But knowing Lily as I do and her brilliant skill at Charms, I suspect she tied her own life force – and probably your father's as well – into a web of protection for you. Remember that she and your father were in hiding for some time – they knew the Dark Lord was looking for them – and so they had time to plan for the worst case scenario. They knew they might die, Harry, and I believe they made plans for that event. They knew you would not die before them, because they intended to protect you even at the cost of their own lives. It was a choice they made, Harry. It was not an accident or a mistake.

"That web of protection – the power of not one but three wizards – turned back the Unforgivable and vanquished the Dark Lord. It would not have worked without your parents' deaths, Harry. It only worked because the Dark Lord had already freed their life forces and made them available to protect you – the one person they both prized above Life itself."

Tears were pouring down Harry's cheeks, but he hadn't said a word nor had his gaze faltered from where it remained locked on Snape's own eyes.

"Harry, if by some quirk of fate, the Dark Lord had managed to get to you first, he would have killed you. And knowing your mother as well as I did, I can tell you with absolute assurance that your death would have killed her. She could not have lived without you. And James would not have survived the loss of his wife and child. So if you had died, Harry, your parents would still have died. Perhaps not at the hand of the Dark Lord, but they would still be just as dead.

"They knew the prophecy, Harry. They knew that you were the Dark Lord's target. They knew they had a choice. They didn't have to go into hiding with you. They could have turned you over to the Ministry for protection. They could even have handed you over to the Dark Lord when he arrived at the house in Godric's Hollow. But they didn't choose to do any of those things, Harry. They chose to stay with you, to protect you with their own lives, to die rather than allow you to be killed. They made that choice to protect you, not because you are a worthless freak, but because you were their precious, precious child."

"And that is why you must _never_ again take foolish risks with your life. That is why you must let me help to protect you. I chose to make you a part of my life, Harry, and that means I have made the same choices your parents did. I will protect you, Harry, with my life if necessary. But you must help me to do that. You must realize how much you are loved and treasured, and you must never do anything to risk yourself unnecessarily. If you are worried, if you are frightened, if you are upset – you come to me. Do you understand? So I can continue your parents' dying efforts and keep you safe.

"That is how you honor them, Harry. That is how you bring meaning to their deaths, and that is how you defeat the Dark Lord. _You_ are your parents' legacy. Not you, the Boy Who Lived or the symbol of the Light, but you, their beloved baby boy. The child they adored and cherished above everything else. When you doubt your own worth, Harry, you denigrate their sacrifice. You call into question everything they lived and died for. If you wish to believe the Dursleys over me, that's one thing. But don't believe the Dursleys over your own parents." His gaze never wavering, Snape reached out and cupped Harry's face in his strong, potion-stained hands. "Do you understand what I am saying, child? Do you understand how very precious you are?"

Harry's face crumpled. He threw himself forward, collapsing into Snape's arms and crying harder than he had ever cried before. He mourned his parents, his childhood, and the life he might have had and would never know. He grieved for the life he could have had, had his relatives been able to set aside their hatred and envy. He cried all the tears he had never been able to shed before, because no one had ever cared enough to help him do so. He wept with heartbroken abandon, the sobs coming from deep within him, while Snape held him and rocked him as if he were a much younger child.

Harry didn't even notice when the floo roared to life and Dumbledore looked out. The Headmaster's eyebrows rose precipitously as he saw Harry sobbing so brokenheartedly, then fell into a thunderous scowl as he looked at Snape. The Potions Master glared back and made little shooing motions with his hand. Dumbledore looked like he wanted to argue, but finally mouthed, "My office. Soon as you can" and withdrew.

After several more minutes, Harry finally began to get control of himself, and his sobs slowly died away to quiet tears then to hiccups and sniffles. The whole time, he remained clasped securely in Snape's arms.

After he was certain from Harry's breathing that the emotional maelstrom had subsided, Snape cautiously _Accio'd_ a handkerchief and offered it to the boy. Harry pushed himself upright and did his best to mop up the worst of the mess. "Thank you," he said quietly, too emotionally wrung out to feel any embarrassment at having cried himself to exhaustion on his professor's lap. He felt a warm, safe feeling of peace that he had never known before, as if an enormous burden had been lifted from him.

"You're welcome," Snape said, relieved to see the boy was calm. He wished he could deposit Harry on the couch and let him fall into the deep healing sleep that his body needed after such emotionally and physically grueling experiences, but that would really convince the Headmaster that he had beaten the boy to within an inch of his life. "I'm sure you are tired, but the Headmaster is waiting for us, and I'm certain your friends are convinced you are being tortured with hot coals."

Harry grinned, even through his fatigue. "My bum pretty much felt like you _were_ for a while there."

Snape rolled his eyes. Such hyperbole. He had only delivered about ten swats, though he had to admit they'd been good and hard. But ten smacks, however soundly applied, hardly constituted the roasting the brat had claimed – and deserved – to have gotten. Still, the boy had undoubtedly felt it, and Severus' point had been made. And accepted.

Even without the need to address Harry's misperceptions, it would have been _inefficient_ to prolong the boy's discomfort once he had learned his lesson, Snape argued to himself. It wasn't that he was lenient with Harry; it was merely that he detested unnecessary effort. A lengthy period of soreness for Harry would lead to extra work for Snape in the form of deflecting disapproving glares from the faculty, ignoring reproachful looks from the rest of the Trio, and rebuffing pitiful sighs and demands for extra shortbread from the brat himself. Much better to make the lesson sharp and painful, but _short_. And if the boy needed a brief embrace afterwards, it wasn't that he was _cuddling _the brat, but merely acknowledging the reestablishment of normal relationships. "Go and wash your face," he ordered sternly, determined not to lose his reputation as a strict disciplinarian.

Harry obediently trotted down the hall, while Severus quickly changed into a fresh shirt – free of all the tears and snot that Harry had sobbed onto his chest – and donned his robes. When Harry reappeared, his fringe dripping but the tear tracks gone, Snape took him by the hand and floo'd to Albus' office.

No sooner had they arrived than Snape noticed Poppy, off to one side, surreptitiously performing a diagnostic spell on Harry. He scowled fiercely at the Headmaster. Did the old coot really think he would have injured the child? He pushed Harry towards the couch on which the other two Gryffindor students sat waiting and stalked over to where the medi-witch was reassuring the Headmaster.

"Albus! How dare you find it necessary to perform an illicit examination on my ward!" he hissed furiously.

"Now, Severus, you must admit that you have a temper," Albus began uncomfortably, "and Harry has a tendency to provoke you –"

"So after ignoring the abuse he suffered at the hands of those Muggles for a decade, you are now suddenly vigilant?" Snape sneered, pleased to find himself occupying the moral high ground in a dispute with Dumbledore.

"As I said, Harry is fine, Albus," Poppy said reassuringly. "Not a mark on him, nor any signs of distress. Looks like someone let him off _without _a bottom warming." She winked at Snape, much to his annoyance, and left.

"I apologize, my dear boy," Dumbledore said humbly. "I hope you can forgive me for my unfounded suspicions. I should have known you would never harm Harry, no matter how angry you might feel."

Snape sulked a little more, enjoying Dumbledore's increasingly remorseful expressions of contrition, until Minerva finally got fed up with the Potions Master and elbowed him in the side. "For Merlin's sake stop pouting, Severus!" the witch snapped. "Albus didn't make you grovel this much when you left Voldemort!"

"Minerva, I do not _pout_!" Snape denied hotly, but he grudgingly conceded her other point and let Albus off the hook. "I'm glad you are – finally – looking out for the boy," he sniffed, turning away from the older wizard and missing the impish look Dumbledore gave Minerva.

Meanwhile, Harry had immediately been hit with whispered questions as soon as he sat down with this friends. "Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione asked, worried.

"Need an extra pillow, mate?" Ron's eyes danced mischievously.

"No, thanks," Harry replied, grinning.

Ron's eyes widened. "You didn't get whacked? Blimey, how'd you escape that? I thought for sure Snape was going to –"

"I didn't exactly escape," Harry admitted. "I did get whacked – really hard too! – but then Snape, well, he needed to explain some stuff, so he let me have a healing potion."

"What? Why?" Ron demanded, incredulous.

"He said he didn't want anything to distract me from what he was saying," Harry explained.

"You lucky sod!" Ron breathed, envy writ large on his features. "My mum says that the sting _makes_ me listen, so she gives me a couple of extra whacks before she gets to the lecturing part."

Harry squirmed a bit. "It wasn't that kind of talk. I mean, it wasn't exactly a lecture. He just explained some stuff about… stuff."

"I think it shows how much Professor Snape cares about you, Harry," Hermione said primly. "Although I still think that corporal punishment –"

"Yeah, yeah. We know," Ron interrupted her rudely. "Merlin, Harry, when Snape walloped you in the lav, I nearly fell over. He's _totally_ into the dad thing now."

Harry colored as he recalled how Snape had smacked his bum in front of everybody when he'd first emerged from the Chamber. Usually Snape was scrupulous about punishing Harry in private, so Harry had taken that as a sign of how furious and fed up Snape was with him. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, right – you've never really had a dad that you can remember," Ron realized. "Well, mate, let me tell you that no one but a parent will go from hugging you to swatting you in under five seconds."

"He's right, Harry," Hermione chimed in. "Professor Snape was just frantic when he got there and realized you must be in the Chamber. The look of relief on his face when the opening appeared and you stepped out was amazing."

"Yeah, and the happiness when he saw you were okay – _immediately_ followed by absolute fury – that sequence pretty much guarantees you a whack or two. I think it's like a rule or something."

"Even _my _father – " Hermione started, then blushed as both boys stared at her in shock.

"You said your folks didn't smack you," Ron accused.

"They don't," she replied. "But the one time – the _only_ time – that I got a smack on the bum was the same sort of thing. We were at a family reunion when I was around six. A younger cousin and I were playing outside while everyone else was indoors, and we went over by the swimming pool and I fell in. I couldn't really swim and so my cousin ran for help. My dad came running out and jumped in with all his clothes on and rescued me. But as soon as he got me out and made sure I was okay, he hugged me until I couldn't breathe and then before I knew it, he had started yelling and that's when he smacked me." She tried to act nonchalant. "It really hurt, too. He apologized later, but he explained that he had been very upset at the thought that they might have lost me. Professor Snape had that same look on his face, Harry."

Harry studied his toes and tried not to let the idiotic grin spread all over his face. Smiling because he'd been whacked? How mental was that? He should be annoyed, right?

Above his bent head, Ron and Hermione exchanged a happy glance. Whatever challenges might still lie ahead for Harry, he would no longer have to face them alone, or with just the two of them at his side.

That was quite a relief, to be honest. And now that they had had some time to get used to it, both were happy – for different reasons – that it was Professor Snape who had befriended Harry. Ron was happy because Snape was the meanest, orneriest, most dangerous member of the faculty. No one was going to mess with Harry while _he_ was around, and he'd be able to teach Harry to take on all comers, right up to the Dark Lord himself. He'd even challenge the Headmaster himself, like he was doing right now, though it seemed that that argument was over and – yep, Snape had won. Again.

Hermione was happy because Professor Snape knew what it was like to be a Death Eater and he would therefore be the best person to teach Harry how to defeat them. He was very stern but when he said something, you could count on it. And he didn't demand Harry take on unreasonable tasks, the way Professor Dumbledore sometimes seemed to do. It was as if the Headmaster thought that Harry was special and should be allowed to do things no other student was, but most of those things weren't very good for Harry, whether it was risking a cold and being tired in class after some late night corridor wandering or meeting up with the Dark Lord in yet _another_ secret chamber. Hermione was very glad that Snape actively discouraged Harry – in a very _hands-on _way – from breaking school rules. He wanted Harry to be safe, and he wasn't shy about setting limits on Harry's behavior and then enforcing them. Dumbledore didn't appear to be very good at that, and Hermione felt strongly that consistency was critical in child-rearing. Her parents always said so.

Both Hermione and Ron were pleased that they no longer had to feel responsible for Harry. A formidable grownup had taken on that role, and they were glad to be relegated back to mere "friend" status. No more having to worry about whether his relatives were feeding him over the holidays or if his nocturnal wanderings were interfering with his studying. All that adult stuff could now be entrusted to Snape. They could go back to focusing on the fun stuff, like figuring out the best way to pass notes in History of Magic or cheering for the Quidditch team.

"So, children," Dumbledore and the other teachers finally came over and settled themselves in chairs near the students. "I am sure you have a fascinating story to tell us."

The Trio looked at each other, then both boys turned to Hermione. She looked at the teachers. "Well, it all started when Harry began hearing this voice…" It took a while, and the boys chimed in frequently, but in the end, the entire tale was shared.

"Let me see if I understand. You three uncovered a plot by Lord Voldemort to create chaos here at the school by draining Miss Weasley's life force in order to animate a shade of his former self and awaken the basilisk. You not only destroyed the Dark artifact that fueled that shade, but you discovered Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets and befriended his basilisk familiar before it harmed anyone here at the school. You correctly identified the creature based on very little evidence but a great deal of clever deduction (and the help of Charles Weasley), and you found the entrance to the Chamber. Concurrent with all this, Miss Granger taught herself how to cast an Imperius so as to be able to overcome the basilisk. When you discovered the diary and the Chamber entrance today, Miss Granger collected not only two roosters whose crow could dispatch the basilisk, but for good measure, she also brought along Harry's owl and my familiar, Fawkes, in case they might prove helpful. While she was doing this, Mr Weasley first summoned Professor Snape, then obtained his own chicken by cleverly using the school's floo network to dart home to where he knew a supply was readily available. While his friends were thus engaged, Mr Potter unfortunately fell victim to the slippery tiles in the lavatory but ended up destroying Voldemort's horcrux and making a new, powerful ally. Did I omit anything?"

McGonagall and her students sat there, beaming, and it was too much for Snape. "Allow me to correct your interpretation of events, Headmaster," he interjected coldly. "Mr Potter, Miss Granger, and Mr Weasley deliberately withheld information critical to school safety and/or their own well being. They engaged in a highly inappropriate investigation and lied to Mr Weasley's older brother in order to solicit his unwitting assistance in their madcap scheme. Mr Weasley also violated school policy by using _my _floo without my permission for an unauthorized visit to his home." Ron squirmed uncomfortably.

"Miss Granger has displayed an alarming talent for the Dark Arts by learning and repeatedly casting a highly illegal Unforgiveable, albeit only at barnyard fowl. She also kidnapped your familiar, Headmaster – I understand that she said something to the effect of "Come with me or I'll pluck you bald" when Fawkes initially declined to accompany a wild-eyed child who burst into the office. I am sure it is coincidence that your gargoyle is sporting several new and deep chips in its stone body, as would be consistent with someone bullying it into unblocking the staircase in the absence of the password." Hermione turned bright red and shrank back against the cushions.

"Despite being specifically told not to touch the Dark object, Mr Potter nevertheless stuffed said artifact into his pocket as if it were a stray quill that he had found in the corridors. His premature and potentially catastrophic tumble into the Chamber was due entirely to his impatient questioning of the snakes linked to the portal, when he knew perfectly well that he should wait quietly for a responsible adult to arrive. His ability to befriend the basilisk and destroy the horcrux – I will explain to you children what that is _later_, Mr Weasley; do not interrupt me again with your piercing whispers to Miss Granger seeking edification – was due more to sheer luck than to skill and planning. Despite all his training over these past few months, Mr Potter still is happy to rush in where angels fear to tread and his friends are only too happy to rush in alongside him." Now it was Harry's turn to look abashed, though he was still too happy at his friends' explanation of Snape's behavior as well as Snape's own words to him earlier, to be downcast by the scolding for long.

"I assume you will be deducting an appropriate number of points for such reckless behavior, Headmaster?" Snape said meaningfully.

All three children's heads jerked up in shock and alarm. _Lose _points? But they had fought off the Dark Lord and saved Ginny!

Their Head of House sailed to the rescue. "Your wits are wandering, Severus!" McGonagall scolded. "The children did what they had to do in order to rescue Miss Weasley and neutralize the threat of the basilisk. They should be rewarded, not punished, and I assume the House points will reflect that."

Ron frowned. He wasn't sure he was comfortable with "the ends justifying the means" argument, and he caught Snape's eye upon him and knew the Potions Master was thinking the same thing. To his astonishment, Snape's eyelid flickered in the briefest wink. Ron choked.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked in concern.

"Minerva, only a muddleheaded Gryffindor could possibly advance such a flawed argument," Snape retorted. "Their repeated violations of school rules and policies require a stern response."

"The _saving_ of the school calls for a generous reward!"

"Professors, professors," Dumbledore said genially. "Please, think of the example you are setting for the young people." Minerva and Severus broke off their argument with glowers of mutual hostility. "I propose that a general amnesty is declared upon most of today's events. Miss Granger's use of an Unforgiveable is concerning, although I do not believe that Imperiusing poultry is technically illegal. She _has_ displayed unexpected prowess at the Dark Arts, however, and I agree that she will require careful tutelage to ensure her proficiency advances in a safe and legal manner. I must concur with Professor Snape in one thing, though; we cannot ignore the unsupervised study and practice of Unforgiveables. Miss Granger, I'm afraid you will have to be punished."

Hermione wrung her hands together anxiously. Surely they wouldn't expel her, would they? She could feel the boys stiffening protectively at her sides. "Yes, Professor," she said, her voice trembling.

His blue eyes twinkled. "I know how highly you students prize your free time, but I have no choice but to order you to attend special Dark Arts training with Professor Snape. I am quite certain this will also provide you with all the oversight you require to develop your skills to their utmost." Hermione's eyes grew huge with delight - extra classes! - and Harry perked up too. Now he'd have someone at his own level to duel with!

Ron grinned. If the two of them were getting extra DADA lessons, he was pretty sure he'd be included eventually, if only because Snape would go spare at the thought of the other two teaching him the stuff on the sly.

Snape's eyes narrowed at this blatant confiscation of _his_ spare time, but he didn't dare argue lest Albus decide to trust Hermione's training to Lockhart. On the other hand, that might ensure the idiot's rapid departure from Hogwarts, if not his demise. Providing poor quality Dark Arts training to a student with a high level of innate ability tended to be a self-correcting action. Terminally self-correcting.

"In terms of Mr Weasley's unauthorized use of the floo," continued the Headmaster, "since he merely went home – as his mother can attest – I do not believe any disciplinary action is required. I would suggest that you owl your brother with a full explanation and apology, however." Ron nodded obediently. He knew perfectly well Charlie would be tickled pink at the adventure; he wouldn't be at all upset at their fib but rather delighted to have participated.

"As for Mr Potter's imprudent actions, I suspect he has already received appropriate chastisement," Dumbledore twinkled at Harry's blush, "so we need not assign further punishment. But even you must admit, Severus, that his actions in the Chamber, while happily blessed with a large degree of good luck, also demonstrated initiative, courage, and ingenuity."

"I never stated otherwise," Snape retorted haughtily. Harry beamed. Coming from Snape – well, sort of – that was a real compliment!

"Then having gotten the various punishments out of the way, we can move on to the rewards," Dumbledore continued happily. "I believe eighty points each for their bravery and cleverness will acknowledge _both_ the Slytherin and Gryffindor qualities that these young people displayed today. And we will have to find a way to award young Mr Malfoy his share as well – though perhaps we should wait a few days rather than risk any connections being made. I think twenty points is an appropriate reward for placing the rescue of an innocent above family loyalty, don't you?"

Snape spun to stare at the children, but their gobsmacked expressions told him that none of them had told Dumbledore. So how had the old man known? The old coot twinkled maddeningly at Snape. "Don't you agree, my boy?"

"That would be… acceptable," he agreed grudgingly.

"Then, having recognized and honored the children's actions, I suggest we all sit back and relax. This has been a very stressful day, after all. Severus – would you not agree that some tea and biscuits are in order?"

Snape glared at him. So the irritating old nitwit knew about that as well? "Oh, very well, Headmaster. I will inform the house elves. Will shortbread, peanut butter, and chocolate chip biscuits for the children be sufficient, or do you and Professor McGonagall insist on having your own favorites as well? Surely you ingest enough sugar through those disgusting lemon drops and do not require anything more."

"Now, Severus, the house elves know to bring lemon squares for me. Minerva? Still enjoying sugar cookies? Sweets to the sweet, eh, my dear?"

The students stared as McGonagall actually _giggled_. "Oh, Albus!"

Snape looked as if he were going to be ill. "Good grief."

Harry grinned. Yep, this was his family all right. Complete with squabbles, grudges, and lots of food. He looked over to where Snape was instructing a house elf and the professor, perhaps feeling Harry's eye upon him, glanced up. He didn't actually smile, but the stern expression lightened just a little. Harry sank back against the couch cushions and relaxed in the happy company of his new family. All this and shortbread too!

_FIN_


End file.
